


Like a Dream

by Lilpurplebird



Category: Digimon Adventure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9347945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilpurplebird/pseuds/Lilpurplebird
Summary: Sometimes, the comforting arms of a friend is more than platonic, but only when the two accept one another.





	

Sometimes, Gatomon forgot she wasn't one of the boys; no one could really remind her since they would be knocked into next week if they so much as looked at her funny. It had been apparent from the beginning, at least since she was a Salamon, she was different from the others. It could have been from the way she stood out in a line-up, she looked nor acted like anyone else. It might have been the way she was raised, as hardly anyone else had to deal with Myotismon's cruel methods when he had already shaped up most of the more worthy and promising Digimon.

It had been almost a year since she became Champion, and she had since her last mission become the equivalent of a major. Myotismon was pleased with the fruits of his labor, although he didn't dare let his guard down around her. She may have been his most loyal servant, but her eyes still burned in such a way he couldn't stand making eye-contact with her. It seemed no matter how many times he tried to beat it out of her, it only got stronger. Ironic considering she was scared of getting on his bad side.

Gatomon used this to her advantage around the other soldiers, and they hated her for it among other reasons for why they did. It was envy, supposedly, a result from being rubbed the wrong way that she had special privileges the grunts could only ever dream of because of her high rank. They tried to find the source of her power and use it against her to no avail when she was always one step ahead of them. Any and all attempts at brown-nosing was met with a punch in the nose the moment she caught on to the ruse. Teaming up on her ended in a mountain of broken bodies, even when cheating.

But the hatred stemmed from one common root: she was a 'Womon. She wasn't the only one (Dokugumon didn't let anyone forget while hiding behind her own jealousy), but her being one of the most powerful was hard for many to swallow. On top of that, her attribute was believed to be Vaccine, which ultimately put many soldiers at risk whenever they crossed her. It left a lot of sour tastes in the mouths of common goons who had no choice but to show respect.

And yet, if there was one thing they had over her, it was that she clearly didn't _know_. She didn't know why it was everyone sometimes stared like she was a new attraction, but it sure as hell pissed her off if she had sent them to the infirmary the previous day. She didn't know why she was more irritable on certain days than not. She didn't know what or how to express unknown emotions and thoughts she would get.

She just didn't know what it meant to be female.

“Haul your ass or go eat sludge, lazy shit!”

She was more testy than usual, and was taking it out on the soldiers she had been assigned to train who were currently running through a crudely-made obstacle course. One of the slowest of the minions, a Gazimon, was physically and verbally abused by her any chance she got if only because he wasn't meeting up to her expectations and she felt like beating someone up. The others chortled at his misfortune, counting their lucky stars they were being spared, yet took the opportunity to ogle each time they passed. As such, she had a pile of rocks nearby for those she caught staring at her in _that_ way (though she still threw them at random whenever she needed to release some steam).

When the Mammal Digimon nearly stumbled over his own feet, the feline whipped him with her tail, the ring catching at the back of his head. “Straighten up and pick up your feet, moron!” she hollered. “There's no room for clumsy-ass mistakes, or you'll be eaten alive!”

The ruffled Rookie's nostrils flared as he swerved to glare at her. “You're a crazy bitch, I didn't sign up for this!” he shouted. “Whose bright idea was it to assign a 'Womon like you this task?”

Her irises flashed and she socked him in the mouth, sending him tumbling into a passing Numemon. “You rookie bastards are all the same,” she spat. “'This is too _harrrd!_ I'm gonna _diiiie!_ This isn't food! I _haaaate_ being told what to do!', and all of that bullshit. If you don't like it here, then delete yourself so I won't have to hear your bitching a second more!”

The unmistakeable cackle of DemiDevimon sounded from behind as he arrived. “Thank my lucky stars I wasn't trained under you!”

“If you _were_ , you'd be out of my fur by now,” Gatomon snapped, swerving to face him. “The hell do you want, can't you see I'm busy?”

“Oh, yeah, 'cause screaming at and beating up recruits takes up some of your precious energy.” He sneered, taking notice of the gawking from the other minions. “You know why I'm here. The boss wants to see you, pronto.”

“Tell him I'll be there when I'm finished.” She turned her back on him to chuck a rock where it slammed into a Vegiemon.

He wildly flapped out in front of her. " _Ohhh_ , no you don't, Miss Prissy! My tail feathers are on the line here, and Lord Myotismon's patience is running thin!”

“So's mine. We have _so_ much in common, you hear that, you freaks?!” she yelled it over DemiDevimon's wing. “You can take that rumor and shove it, now!”

“I mean it, Furball, he wants you in his office!” He flashed a fang with a sly smirk. “Apparently, one of your recruits did something out-of-line, so you have to go take responsibility!”

The feline nonchalantly swung her tail. “Let the jackass take their _own_ responsibility for whatever they did. I expect _my_ recruits to act their levels, unlike a certain _other_ cohort I know.”

DemiDevimon gritted his teeth at her as his fur bristled and pupils shrank until he took a breath. “Fine, then. I'll go back and tell Lord Myotismon you got your paws full, and he'll decide the punishment for himself. It's been a while since Wizardmon got his ass handed to him, should be a treat to see him being let down by his idol.”

Gatomon almost didn't get to hear the rest of his sentence when she faced him once again. With a scowl and a huff, she slapped him down to her level. “Watch these bums for me until I get back,” was her order before he could even give a retort, and she stormed off. From behind, she didn't know if the hooting and hollering was out of relief or frustration, let alone why she even cared to notice.

During her trip to Myotismon's chambers, she stewed over the thought of Wizardmon being in trouble and how serious enough it was for the vampire to get involved. She hadn't seen him all week, so for all she knew, he had been up to something and got caught. Since his recruitment six months ago, she could think of only one time he had gotten himself in hot water with the higher-ups, but it hadn't been enough then for Myotismon to take matters into his own hands. She knew from the beginning the master didn't like him at all, but he had been doing very well for himself that he became impressed, which was part of the reason why she had gotten promoted. It had been the only time in recent memory she had been praised by the most despicable being in the Digital World, and she had liked it. Since then, she and DemiDevimon had been butting heads and trying to out-do one-another (she had the upper-hand, though), and watching the dustball with wings squirm _always_ made her day.

To think she had come close to talking Wizardmon out of joining. This had been the most fun she had in years.

It came to her attention the corridor was _too_ quiet despite the number of henchmen that were hanging around. As she passed, she shot glares in their direction, and took in their unusually-intrigued expressions. Feeling unnerved but not wanting to show it, she hurried on her way and took the closest flight of stairs she came across.

“What's _their_ deal?” she grunted to herself, flexing her paws and sniffing. For some reason, she was catching on to a strange odor she couldn't identify, it was making her head throb. She cast her eyes about in the off-chance there was strange mold growing on the walls or floor, but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. A Bakemon was ascending the stairs, yet that wasn't the source, even though they always seemed to carry the smell of death on them.

As they crossed paths, Gatomon caught at the corner of her eye the swift movement of the Ghost Digimon abruptly backtracking to come upon her. “The hell is your problem?” she growled, holding up her claws defensively. “Unless you want more holes in you, get out of my face.”

The empty black eyes seemed to darken as the Bakemon started to breathe louder. “There's... something different about you.”

She grimaced, backing up. “Have you gone blind, or lost more of your braincells?”

He continued to approach, but still kept the same distance. “Quite the contrary, but I think my sinuses must've cleared up or something.”

She didn't know Bakemon _had_ noses. “Yeah, that's great, now leave me alone.”

“Did you, like, roll around in something?”

Gatomon smacked the drooling rag into the wall and then ran for her destination, trying to shake off the uneasiness of his words. Just what was he getting at? And _why_ wasn't her headache going away?

“There you are.”

Phantomon's presence always sent chills down the spine, though for some odd reason, she couldn't—or wouldn't?—fight it off. Not wanting to show she was affected by it, she forced herself to straighten and firmly plant her feet where she stood. “Good to know I have an escort,” she purred in a dry tone.

The Ultimate was unamused and used the blunt end of his scythe to jut her chin out more—the cold metal made her jittery even though she could scarcely feel it past her fur. “Lord Myotismon will see you, now,” he coolly replied, and led the way to the chambers.

Gatomon always hated it when she had to march down the long hallway to get to the tall doors. Even on days she _knew_ she wasn't being punished, each step was like a death knell. They've all been false alarms so far, and she'd like to keep it that way, but something was a little _off_ about this one march.

Once the doors opened, she was ushered in before being shut inside. Her senses were immediately assaulted with candle wax, an icy atmosphere, dried blood, and the calculating stare of Myotismon from across the way. A quick scan of the dark room brought nothing but confusion.

“Where's Wizardmon?” was her first question, a stupid move on her part.

Myotismon frowned deeply. “ _That_ is your concern?” he noted in a strict tone.

“I was told he was in trouble.”

He scoffed in disinterest, shifting in his seat. “DemiDevimon must've wanted to get you here as quick as possible, then.”

Gatomon's whiskers and ears twitched. “That bastard,” she hissed under her breath, imagining the bat was now taunting her.

“But he's not wrong, so you know.”

Her brows knitting, she dropped to a knee even though she knew it was seconds too late. “What did he do that he needs to be punished for, my Lord?” she inquired, then braced herself for a lashing.

Thus far, he stayed his hand. “He hasn't been attending his training this last week. Know of his whereabouts?”

She blinked. “He's playing hooky? This is the first I've heard of it.”

“Where is he, then?”

“He should still be on castle grounds, Sir.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

The feline nibbled her inner lip. “Two weeks ago, Sir.”

“Where at, and what was he doing?”

She hadn't foreseen this situation to put much thought into particular questions. Even though she technically could do what she wanted without much repercussion, ditching assigned posts was prohibited, and it had become a habit for them since that was usually when they could get together. Outside of that, he always sought her out any chance he got, though mostly whenever she was alone. There were times she would arrive to his bedroom unannounced for a chat or stop him passing by for a word, but she had never made it a habit to know his whereabouts.

It immediately hit her they may have been seen together. Friendship wasn't something that was encouraged in the castle, even though everyone had to get along well enough to not murder each other in their sleep (which she wouldn't deny having those thoughts). She told Wizardmon time and time again he never did belong in the predominantly-Virus crowd as much as he was capable of it, yet he stayed. He willingly threw away all opportunities to leave, knowing full-well what the environment did to everyone, and for what?

She remembered the first time he petted her head, the first sign of affection and closeness she had in her entire life. She could have shredded him where he stood for laying a finger on her, yet she allowed it, and was disappointed it had to end. Of course, since then, he would stroke her back or her ears whenever they were sitting around and talking or stargazing, but that moment was special.

A quiet whimper sounded in her throat as her thighs squeezed, jolting her back to the present. That was... odd.

Since he had been staring at her so intently, Myotismon noticed. “Is something the matter, Gatomon?”

“Nothing, Lord Myotismon,” she quickly fibbed, trying to shake it off. “Still a little... worked up from today's training.”

“Doesn't smell like it.”

Gatomon tensed up and nearly met him in the eye. “S... Sorry?” she squeaked out.

He got up from his seat and took long, slow strides toward her. “Now that I think about it, I _thought_ this scent was familiar.”

She started to cower before him, anxiety gripping her heart. “I-I don't follow.”

Myotismon's fangs glinted in the candlelight. “I noticed it shortly after you digivolved—six months ago or so?” he drawled out as he circled her. “If my memory serves me correctly, you had left to recruit not long afterwards, so it didn't stick around, and I thought nothing of it. But it would come back every now and then, even when you were no longer in the room—which clued me in to its source.”

Struggling to keep her breaths steady, Gatomon dared to look up at him, noticing a hungry look in his eye. She shivered, coming to her own frightened conclusion she may have been led into a trap. It _had_ been a long while since he last had cravings, but he rarely ever fed on his soldiers.

She must have done something he disapproved of, though what, she couldn't figure out before he picked her up by the scruff. He snickered under his breath from the way she threw her paws up in defense, peering warily beneath her eyelids. “Are you unaware of it?” he questioned her, though it was more of a taunt. “Do you not have an inkling of instinct in you?”

“L-Lord Myotismon... if I did anything to anger you, f-forgive me,” she whimpered out, feeling her prideful-self die a little inside. She could stand up to anyone, yet only the master could bring her to her knees with so much as a point of a finger. She was _very_ certain she had followed orders, but her doubts were getting the best of her.

“Not at all. I'm actually _intrigued_.” The emphasis made her insides flutter. “I haven't seen you this submissive since the day you arrived at my castle. But it's _different_ , almost like it's a part of you.”

“S-Sir?”

He smirked. “I wonder if it's in your blood, given I can feel it come off of you.”

She could hardly cry out when he bowed his head and sunk his fangs into her jugular. Stars popped in her vision as her heart pounded and breaths hitched in her throat. It should have hurt, she could feel the pressure deep beneath her skin, yet instead, the burning heat wasn't that of pain. It spread downward from where they were connected, causing her body to twitch from the sensation. And she came to the realization there was a pulsating throb between her legs she never knew was there.

“I was right,” Myotismon chuckled out, withdrawing his fangs. His cold breath breezing over her open wounds was numbing. “You have an increase, and it's fresh. Typical for a 'Womon.” Greedily lapping up the blood, he dined on her once more in a slightly different spot.

Gatomon squirmed, wanting to fight against it, but couldn't find the strength to overcome. Her vibrating gasps were the softest she had ever heard, and it made her weak. The sigh on her neck sent her soaring to a new height with a whimper on her lips, and she thought she was going to pass out. Perhaps it would've been better if she did, but then would she ever awake again? And what would Myotismon do to her while she was unconscious if not drain her dry?

More importantly, why did she _care?_

A knock at the door startled the both of them, though she flinched more from the searing pain that came to be when he moved at the wrong angle. Her moan was more agonizing that time, and her body responded with a halt that left her irritated and disappointed—for some reason. Myotismon pulled away from her, ignoring the blood seeping from the bite marks to eye the entrance.

“State your business,” he barked at whoever was outside.

“It's Wizardmon, my Lord,” came the soft response beyond the wood, which brought Gatomon to alertness. “I was told you needed to meet with me?”

Her vision was still wavering, but she could swear his brows quirked. With a huff through his nose, he allowed it, and she tilted her head back to watch the digital wizard walk in. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he gave a bow to the vampire, his staff lowered.

“I was finishing up my interrogation with your commanding officer,” Myotismon explained, gesturing to her with his head. He wasn't even trying to hide his intentions when he swiped a tongue across his bottom lip. “She has taken full responsibility for your current incompetence.”

“I apologize for any wrongdoings I may have done,” Wizardmon said, sounding sincere. “I didn't get the opportunity to approach her about my sudden absence.”

“So you admit to not being at your posts and training.”

“Yes, my Lord. I had been placed on kitchen duty without verbal verification or explanation for why—although my guess is they're short on staff—and the trainer never reported it.”

The Ultimate narrowed his eyes. “Is there a reason it just _now_ came to my attention?”

“I don't know of any. I never got the chance to tell my commanding officer about the change.”

This was the first she heard of it as well, which made her question why it was he never approached her about it. Then again, perhaps it was to protect her. He must have known nothing was reported, and if he was stuck in the kitchen, the only times he could legitimately see her was when she was in the mess hall, which she never once stepped foot inside the entire week. Avoiding her ensured the meetings they had while on her rounds wouldn't be revealed. She didn't want to deal with more pain at the moment, and she certainly didn't want Wizardmon to meet the same punishments as her.

After a quick scan over her, Myotismon released her where she scarcely caught herself from crumbling. Staggering in place until she found her balance, she covered her neck and gave a bow, her ears drooped in sight. “Such a waste of my time,” he muttered, throwing his cape around himself. “I'll let you go with a warning today. Don't let this happen again.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the pair said in unison, though the feline more-or-less croaked.

“You're dismissed. Return to your duties at once.”

With one last bow, they slipped out of the room, Gatomon purposefully avoiding Wizardmon's gaze until they were at the stairs. “I agree with him, that was a waste of time,” she grumbled, letting her hand drop.

“Hold on, Gatomon.”

She faced him when he knelt down and carefully laid a hand on her neck to study the wounds. At least he would if the brush on a tender spot didn't cause her to gasp and back away. “Don't touch me!” she yelped, eyes widening and heart quickening.

He grew apologetic, still keeping his hand up. “I'm sorry if it hurts, but that's all the more reason to treat it.”

Gatomon couldn't blame him for something he didn't know about, though she didn't expect to be set off from a simple gesture she welcomed from him. Her legs felt they could give out on her in a single step, and the aches at both her neck and below her abdomen made her thoughts fuzzy. Her tail quivered as she clawed at the wall, suddenly wishing he would _stop staring at her_.

Her thighs closing up didn't go unnoticed. “If you want to hurry to the toilet—”

“What! No!”

He recoiled from her yell, growing worried. “What's going on, Gatomon? Did something happen in there?”

She pursed her lips and scrunched her eyes shut, trying to push away the thought of Myotismon feasting on her. “H-He just bit me... that's all...”

He grabbed her paw. “You need to rest for a while—” he couldn't finish when she yanked away from him.

“What did I _say_ , Wizardmon?!” she yowled, leering at him and fur puffing up.

Wizardmon's expression hardened in return. “Calm down, Gatomon,” he demanded, voice still low. “I'll say it again: you need to rest for a while. I'll not allow you to go in this condition.”

“Who're you to give me orders?” she hissed. “Go back to where you came from so you can stop looking at me.”

He did a double-take. “What do you mean by that?”

“Stop!” she snapped, flattening herself against the wall to scoot away. “Stop it, Wizardmon! Stop talking, and stop looking at me!”

The mage was confused, glancing between her wounds and glare. “What's going on, Gatomon?” he asked, quietly.

“I don't know!” she shouted, falling to her knees. In between huffs, soft groans escaped her, though they weren't the result from pain. She pawed at the stone steps as though to crawl, but shifted herself to a sitting position, curling up on herself when her headache returned. The odor from before was now stronger to dizzying effect, though not in a nauseous way. “I... I feel funny... I...”

Wizardmon came upon her to check the bite marks once again, overlooking her writhing as his brows furrowed. “This doesn't make sense,” he murmured. “You should have symptoms of anemia, and yet...” He felt her ears and forehead, which only made Gatomon agitated and try to shake him off.

“D-Don't touch me!” she cried out, trying to push him away. “I don't... want to like this...”

“You don't want to like what, Ga... tomon?” he questioned until he scanned her.

She peered up at him through the blur, her breaths catching at how close he was, and at the tenderness of his stare. Following his eyes, she twitched when she laid a paw by the exposed pale flesh, a chill spiking through her core. “What... where...?”

Wordlessly, he stood up and hurried to the bottom of the stairs to check if anyone was in the hall listening in. Then returning to her, he nodded for her to get up, holding out his hand if she wanted to take it. She stared at it, but chose to grab onto his pant leg instead, holding tight as they walked together, quiet the entire time.

It felt longer than it actually was, which may have been due to him stopping to usher them around a corner whenever someone was coming, or shielding her in his cloak in until they passed. Even without meeting those stares, Gatomon could still feel them on her, but her thoughts were focused more on his smell. She had always been aware he had a unique scent, one that she couldn't exactly pin-point except it tickled her nose in a _good_ way. Realizing she had been deeply taking him in the whole time he was escorting her gave her that rare desire to hide herself in shame.

They paused outside of her quarters, the feline gripping the handle. Hesitantly, she looked up at her companion, the closest friend she had in the castle and the one she trusted the most. He was still fixated on her with a hard stare, but an understanding in his eyes made her insides tingle.

With a slow nod, she entered her room, a gloomy chamber with a single small, barred window bringing in what little light that came through the fog. She approached her bed with intent to climb in, but instead clutched the thin blanket that she pulled down with her upon collapsing. Wizardmon hurried inside to help her up just for her to smack his hands away.

“Don't!” she gasped out, curling in on herself. The scent was stronger now, and with it, she felt a prickle between her legs that made her turn away abashedly when she saw the wet spot.

“Gatomon...”

She stared up at him, feeling a knot twist in her stomach. “Can't you smell it?” she breathed out in a whimper.

He averted his gaze, a sight that caused her heart to drop. “...I didn't want to bring it up,” he quietly confessed. He noticed the mounted cracked mirror in the corner, and their broken reflections. She stared at themselves as well, taking in how small she looked at the moment. “I wasn't sure what it was at first...”

“How long?”

His hat shielded his eyes. “Off and on... since I got here.”

Gatomon felt like tearing apart her blanket in the hopes she, too, would rent apart. “I don't understand,” she mumbled, her voice a little tight. “Why is this happening?”

“Do you know anything about yourself? Like when your cycle is?”

“My what?”

Wizardmon took a moment to rethink his question. “When did you digivolve?”

She didn't like how the conversation was reminding her of Myotismon's interrogation. “Some time before I left on my recruiting mission. So... before we met.”

There was a quiet hum in his throat. “You're still new to it, then...”

Her eyes lightened up. “Do you know what it is, Wizardmon? D... Do you know why I feel like this?”

Solemnly, he got up to close and lock the door. The sound reverberated through her chest as a wave of excitement, but she stared in confusion. Quietly sighing, he turned back to her with a worried glance.

“Has anyone commented on this?”

A little startled by his question, Gatomon was silent for a couple of moments before nodding. “It was always about my smell... and they'd stare at me. But they weren't _normal_ stares, and it bothered me.”

“It would explain your irritability, then,” he muttered almost to himself. “I'm a little surprised you haven't yet pounced on another henchman, or vice versa.”

She didn't like how he phrased it. “Wizardmon?”

“Given this environment you had to grow up in, surrounded by Digimon who don't have the means to teach you about your body...” When he looked back at her below her gaze, she involuntarily closed herself up. “I'm sorry, Gatomon,” he said, somberly. “I am not in the right to do this with you.”

“What does this have to do with how I'm feeling?!” she shouted without meaning to, the pair wincing from the brief echo. She consciously lowered it on her next sentence, “Why do I feel so awful, and yet so good when I'm being looked at, or touched? Why did I _like_ it when Myotismon fed on me? Why... why do I feel like I'm not even awake?”

Wizardmon gingerly came up to her in arm's reach and knelt down, leaning his staff against the table. “This is normal, Gatomon,” he softly informed her. “Do not feel ashamed about how you're feeling. This is something you can't get rid of without medical interference, which I cannot do not just because I don't have the tools for it, but because I don't want to do it _to_ you when you barely understand what's happening. At the same time, I don't want you getting physically and emotionally hurt because of this.”

Gatomon mewled at his soothing tone, but nodded to show she was listening. She tensed with a gasp when he reached out to gently cup her cheek, then shivered when he slid his fingers to her wounds. Sparks danced in her vision by the time he picked her up to set her down on the bed, her figure taut and responsive once his hands fell from her. Throwing her paw between her legs caught Wizardmon's attention briefly, though she maintained eye-contact and writhed where she sat, her lips pursed to vainly hold back moans.

She could hear her mind cry out in want for him. She didn't know how to explain it, let alone show it, but she wanted to feel good with him like she did before with Myotismon. An ache beneath her twitching hand was the current focus of her thoughts, wondering why it was she reacted to her own touch. The mage visibly gripped the edge of the mattress as she reclined back and felt herself lower, liking his flustered expression the longer she held the gaze.

“Ah... ah...”

The purrs in her throat complemented with her pants, her heart picking up speed and her eyes watering. The knot in her stomach continued to constrict, a sensation that intensified when she stroked in the right way that she could hold back no longer. Repeating the motion added on to the pleasure, and she dared to add pressure.

“Wi... Wizardmon,” she unintentionally vocalized in a pleading tone, her hips swaying.

He audibly gulped as his trembling hand took her by the paw and pulled it away to reveal herself. Her squirms increased, a little upset he interrupted the flow, but then pined for his touch. Experimentally, she squeezed and he returned the gesture.

“I want... to feel good,” she expressed with a sigh. “Please...”

He hung his head, his arms shaking. “I can be here for you, Gatomon,” he responded, timidly, “but I can't give you what your body's craving.”

The feline's stomach clenched even though in her heart she was understanding of what he said. Her body, unfortunately, betrayed her when she shot up. “I want something to fill me,” she demanded, her voice growing louder. “I want to be touched, I want to feel! I want to be free!” She drew in his hand to cover her. “Wizardmon, you're the only one I trust! I don't want to feel this with anyone else! I don't want to go back to them _or_ Myotismon like this! Please, do something! Anything!”

It was clear he was being torn on the inside before he answered with a hard breath. “I want you to be able to control yourself, Gatomon. You're going to feel this urge again and again for as long as you are in this form. This is something that will be your downfall if you don't get it under control. You are strong, and I know you will find a way to live with this while you're here. I will be here for you until then...,” he paused, looking like he would regret what he said next, “but may the gods forgive me for whatever I may do to you.”

She loosely gripped the front of his coveralls. “You mean it, Wizardmon? You'll help?”

“I'm here for you as comfort, and to show you what to do. If we put our trust into one another, we can get through this by willpower alone.”

“Wizardmon...” Taking a few quick breaths, she nodded. “Okay... okay then...” She whimpered from the tiniest of movements below her, her eyes falling closed to still see the image of Myotismon at her jugular. “Ohh... I can't stop thinking about it...”

“What're you thinking about?” he whispered, bumping their foreheads together.

She mouthed for a moment until her voice returned. “I don't want to think about him...” Gatomon looked up at him half-lidded. “I want to think of something else.”

At the angle they were in, his stitched mouth was visible from beneath his cowl. “Hm... remember your first flight?”

She smiled and shivered at the memory, slowly kneading his clothes. “It was like I left my body on the ground even though you were holding me.” A breathy chuckle bubbled in her throat, her stare faltering. “It was so fast... but when everything moved far away, it still looked like it was close. And when we reached the sky... and I saw the moon was so big... it was just in reach...”

A small tear rolled down her cheek as he caressed her jawline and beneath her whiskers. “Were you free, Gatomon?”

She gave a small nod. “Yes... it felt amazing.”

His irises twinkled. “I want you to try not to think of anything else but that moment.”

Gatomon gasped once he cupped her below to where his fingertips rubbed against sensitive flesh, her heart skipping a beat. The contours of his hand through the glove nearly overloaded her mind despite him having barely started. “What about you?” she urged, resting her paw on him. “C-Can I think of you?”

“Of course. I was there with you, after all.”

Though it was gentle, the petting got her to squirm and stretch her legs. Her mouth immediately felt dry as she panted. “Wizardmon,” she whimpered, scarcely able to keep her eyes open when she leaned forward. “More...”

“You want to go faster?” he suggested.

She nodded vigorously, pressing him harder to her. “Yes! It's to fill me up... to complete me!”

Gatomon sighed from the caresses, falling back onto the bed to briefly separate from Wizardmon. There was a creak from when he knelt over her, and using his lower thigh, he eased her legs open more to mesh it against her, coaxing a cry from her throat. “I-It's so big!”

“It won't be able to fit, but it'll keep you covered.” He firmly stroked her, his fingers fondling right above.

Her lower abdomen was instantly thrown into spasms. “Nngh, Wizardmon! Ahh!”

He gently covered her mouth. “Keep it down, Gatomon,” he muttered, his voice husky. “You need to listen to your body, not the other way around.”

She let loose a soft moan when her lips parted, his fingers lacing with her claws. “I-I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. In due time, you can express yourself.” Wizardmon ended up groaning a little and lowered himself on top of her, but remained propped on his elbows.

Excited by the extra weight, Gatomon impulsively mimicked his movements and before long, the two were panting fervently together, beads of sweat developing on their temples. Staring up at the ceiling, she noticed the world was fading, pulling away like the ground each time they ascended and leaving her dizzy. It was getting more difficult to fill her lungs the higher she climbed, but she wouldn't mind fainting knowing Wizardmon would catch her.

The moment she lifted a leg to hook over his, he snatched it to hold her in place higher up his thigh, raising her hips. Her head lolled to the side to face the mirror, taking in the sight of their bodies tilted at an angle. Her eyelids fluttered as she watched and felt her friend bow in to breathe on her neck, squeezing his hand and mumbling in response to a hard, lingering push between her legs.

She realized then just how dissimilar he was to Myotismon, not just in both looks and demeanor, but also how she was treated. The vampire was cold and cruel, always asserting his dominance as the master with the flick of the whip; Wizardmon was warm and caring, viewing her as an equal while still respecting the difference in rank. One such evidence was there with how her wounds ached beneath his lips, but she felt no agony, just soothing heat. Closing her eyes, she thrusted against his limb in response until he shifted and she felt a bulge rub through his clothes. The throb increased, spreading down her tail and up her lower abdomen as they moved and moaned in tandem.

Her nose bumped against his cheek when she glanced back up to brush away hair peeking out beneath his crooked hat, bringing him to look at her. “How're you feeling?” he queried, breathless.

She managed a smile for him. “I feel... good...”

“Is there anything you want?”

“I-I still want to be filled.”

She twitched when his hand wrung her thigh sliding over to seize himself, sweat trickling down into his cowl as he hesitated for a moment. Her eyes drifted down for a look, but her vision was too bleary to tell what he was doing. Quiet as it was, she heard a protest rumble in his chest, a sound that worried her once he cupped her and scooted himself a ways. She felt him ghost along until he found what he was looking for.

“Remember how this feels, Gatomon,” he then murmured before entering.

Gatomon's scream hitched as her pelvis shot up and her head was thrown back, arms stretched out above. Everything rushed to her core as Wizardmon pumped into her, his groans subdued past his teeth. She watched wide-eyed at his red, contorting face, seeing a different side to him she never knew about and _should have_ been bothered about, but wasn't. Before she could stop herself, she threw herself forward to lick his cheek, a movement that brought out a gasp and he wrapped his free arm around her. Holding him tight, her eyelids fluttered as she became accustomed to him, moving in accordance with him out of desire for closeness.

“Oh, Wizardmon!” she mewled at his ear, her heart palpitating and mouth watering from the way she sounded.

“Gatomon!” was his gasp just at her cheek, their jaws dropping open for throaty moans.

The feline wasn't sure how she knew it, but her body was on the cusp of newfound energy, a different sensation than when she had digivolved. There was a buildup ready to be released, something that had to be from when she felt him insert a second finger with a third rubbing at the entrance. Gazing distantly into his star-studded eyes, Gatomon shuddered and rolled her hips against him, feeling like she could become one with him. In a swift, but tender motion, their mouths fully connected, the slightest hint of twine skimming across her lips.

And then it stopped.

Time and space didn't freeze on her. There was no falling motion to jolt her back to consciousness. There was no loss of breath or skipping of the heart.

Gatomon stared up at Wizardmon, taking in his flushed face and disheveled straw-colored hair sticking to his forehead, his wide, _beautiful_ green eyes welled up. Their hot breaths washed over each other, intoxicating, but reviving. Below her body, just outside of her peripheral, she fidgeted when his hand slipped away, her raised pelvis coming back down.

Trembling, the mage gingerly lifted himself from her, his coveralls clinging to him in spots drenched with perspiration. His gaze trailed along her figure, brows furrowed though he was relaxing. Just as carefully, Gatomon sat up as well, rubbing the back of her stiff neck and dropping her eyes to look herself over. She thought twice about checking if she was still sensitive, but as she couldn't see anything with a glance, decided to leave it be.

“So... was that it?” she asked, lips scarcely moving.

Wizardmon let out a soft sigh, turning his back on her as he pulled at his clothes. “I wonder if it's possible...” He trailed off in thought.

Her ear flicked. “Hm?”

He then shook his head. “How're you feeling?” he changed the subject.

Frowning, Gatomon got to her feet. “It's weird,” she replied, rolling her shoulders. “I don't feel needy, I'm a little hungry, and I don't smell anything. I think.”

Wizardmon let out a quiet chuckle when she inhaled deeply to check and her nose wrinkled. “How else?”

“I'm... well... I feel a little better, and yet I don't. It's like I'm missing something, but I'm not sure what.”

His weary smile was faint. “We'll be on the lookout, then. This is likely temporary, and you may become... _active_ again within hours or days. I suppose we shall see.”

Gatomon lightly kicked at the crumpled blanket when he picked up his staff. Glancing over at the mirror, she muttered, “Is this okay?”

He turned to her. “Were you uncomfortable?”

Her ears lowered briefly. “No... but I must've said some... embarrassing or weird things, didn't I?” Facing him, she became concerned. “You were reluctant to do this, weren't you?”

He hung his head for a moment as he folded his arms. “I suppose I... need to work more on my willpower.” He peered over with an acknowledging look, a smile playing at his eyes.

Feeling her cheeks flush, Gatomon tilted her head. “We both need to.”

The gentle petting between her ears relaxed her, though her heart was picking up in momentum. With a muffled huff, she leaned into his hold, guiding his hand to her ear where she let out a purr when his thumb grazed along the edge.

“Are you feeling up for returning to the training grounds?” he quietly asked, killing the mood.

After a small pout, she pulled away. “Mm... forgot about that.” She rubbed her neck only to pause, realizing there was no pain or burning sensation. Jogging up to the mirror, she gaped at her reflection and gently traced a claw where the wounds had been only minutes ago. She spun around to stare at Wizardmon, whose soft gaze caused her heart to soar.

“Let me know when you need some aid,” he told her assuredly.

Silently, she nodded and, when he left, turned back to the mirror. Grabbing her arm as her stare wavered, she tried to recall her thoughts and emotions. It was a relief she was feeling better, yet deep down, she was saddened by how the last few minutes didn't feel _real_. She _knew_ it had happened, yet she must have been in a dreamlike state until now, not helped that the transition from Myotismon's encounter to Wizardmon's were so close together.

The only thing keeping her from believing it to be a dream was Wizardmon himself. There was no mistaking his warmth, something she couldn't dream up of if she tried. Regardless of how short-lived it was, she couldn't deny she had felt safe and free with him. The thought was comforting as she fixed up her bed and made her way to the grounds, rendering passing glances ineffective even when making brief eye-contact.

Upon arrival to the obstacle course, she kicked DemiDevimon in the rear to wake him up, gaining enjoyment from his squawks. “It took you long enough!” he growled once he turned his attention to her.

“No thanks to you,” she jeered. “Where are the bums at?”

He looked about the obstacle course wildly, his antennae sticking up. “They were just here a minute ago!” he stammered, trying to stealthily step away from her. “I think they're _juuuuust_ around the bend, all together, now!”

Her ears swiveled at the sound of braying laughter and swearing on the opposite side of the course, possibly gambling or stuffing their faces. Leering down at the Rookie, she left him be to stroll on across, finding where they were situated from their noise alone. She chose to climb up onto the wall to overlook them, her assumptions correct, though she didn't care for their ruckus until the Gazimon, clearly drunk, opened his big mouth.

“Keep tellin' ya, Major Bitch needs'ta get some,” he hiccuped.

“Yeah, we _know_ , because you won't shut up about it,” a Vegiemon grumbled.

“If you like her that much, then how about you try your luck on getting her?” a Numemon cackled with a smirk. “She's been _really_ moody lately, I'm sure she's open for business.”

“She hates m'guts.” The Rookie took a swig like he was expected to get a pat on the back. “'S too bad her at'tude stinks, 'cause she smells invitin'.”

“It's better than smelling like a pile of _garbage_ ,” Gatomon then spoke up from her loft, face contorted in tranquil rage.

The minions gawked up at her, and she archived their stunned looks into memory. The Gazimon in particular was priceless, as he was clearly the most embarrassed as well as being the most screwed among the group once she came up with the proper punishment for him.

Then in a venomous tone, she enunciated quietly, “You have until the count of _zero_ before I kick all of your sorry asses to the Primary Village.”

In a cloud of dust, they carried on running and screaming like mad down the obstacle course, leaving behind their trash, cards, and slips of paper they were writing their bets on. Rolling back her shoulders and cracking her knuckles, she took her sweet time beating every single one of them (including DemiDevimon once she caught hold of him again). Her reputation returned to normal within those short hours, both on the grounds and inside the castle.

Fatigue hit her like a ton of bricks when everything was finished that evening, and she wasn't in the mood to do anything but sleep. With knuckles popping and arms aching, Gatomon took her time to walk back inside and wander the hallways, letting her mind drift. Passing a window, she paused to watch Myotismon's carriage disappear into the fog on his nightly hunt, and she briefly touched her neck, unsure if the faint sensation was in response to the memory or if it was Wizardmon's.

Her body trembled at the thought of her friend's weight on top of her, and she couldn't help dwelling on it. Multiple times, she had to mentally remind herself it wasn't a dream even if the memory was a little faded. The body heat, the labored breathing, the bed creaking, the caresses, the moment he slipped inside... she remembered, but not fully. And as blurry as it was, she _knew_ she saw from two different angles how he looked draped over her, his head bowed at her neck. It was pleasurable, intimate, warm. But most of all, it was just the two of them for those few minutes; no Myotismon, no stares and fights, no blood—just them.

Gatomon jerked herself back to the present and clasped her paws together in the off-chance anyone was in the vicinity, gulping as she tried to calm her heart. Her ears drooped slightly when she recognized the scent, her thighs rubbing together as she straightened up. Taking in slow breaths, the feline continued her walk, abandoning her original destination to clear her thoughts before she could find _him_. And she kept telling herself she just wanted to _talk_ , since she hadn't seen him all week.

She was happy to learn he was free from his impromptu kitchen duties, and also to discover he had the same idea in mind. A smile on her lips, she met her friend's gaze, ignoring the throbbing to propose:

“Let's go for a flight, tonight.”

 


End file.
